


All I Want is to Have My Piece of Pie

by nightlighttuesdays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boston, Canon Related, First Kiss, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music, Pie, Rock and Roll, Singing, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlighttuesdays/pseuds/nightlighttuesdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Cas gets the words wrong. And sometimes Dean doesn't have the heart to correct him. (Boston - Peace of Mind)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want is to Have My Piece of Pie

Dean didn't catch it at first. Of course he noticed when Cas started singing Boston, but he just figured maybe Cas had found his favorite band. God knows Dean had tried to expose him to as much ACDC and Zeppelin as possible, because the more you hear 'em, the more you love 'em. But Dean was surprisingly cool with Boston, maybe since he was relieved it wasn't Sam's slumber party mix of Celine Dion and overgrown boybands.

But then Cas wasn't really singing Boston anymore. And Dean was getting really fucking tired of listening to one song on infinite loop, all the goddamn time.

"Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you been paying," the opening lines started up again from the backseat and Dean pounded his head against the headrest.

"What crawled up your ass?" Sam asked from the passenger seat.

"I'm gonna kill - Cas, man, what the hell?"

He could see Cas' sad blue eyes in the mirror.

"Is it my voice?"

Dean considered saying yes, just for a second, because maybe it would get him to shut up for all of one hunt. He'd tried to play his tapes, cranking them up louder and louder until he couldn't even hear himself screaming along with them; it didn't really matter, though, because even when Cas was interrogating demons miles away, Dean could still hear him in the back of his mind. It'd gotten to the point where his tapes didn't sound right anymore - there was something Cas did when he sang it that Delp couldn't touch, and Delp was freaking awesome.

Dean was pissed.

Cas wasn't supposed to have a deep voice that sounded like God in an oversized beige trenchcoat. He wasn't supposed to sound sexy and soulful and beautiful, and maybe it was the fact that he did that was really pissing Dean off. Dean wasn't supposed to think Cas' voice sounded sexy. He wasn't supposed to like Cas' voice more than his tapes. This, whatever it was, this angel daycare in the backseat of the Impala, it wasn't supposed to happen. But mostly, Dean wasn't supposed to be glad it had.

"Maybe," Dean said. Sam levelled a bitch-approved glare at him and Dean sighed, shifting his gaze to the rearview. Cas had sat back in the seat, turning to frown out the window.

"It's not your voice, Cas, you just got that song stuck in my head four months ago and it's been there ever since, and I can't freakin' handle it anymore."

"Oh." Cas looked pink in the mirror, and Dean felt kind of like a dick.

"It's not like it sounds bad," he added, grudgingly, after a few seconds. A little twitchy smile started up on Sam's face, the kind you could tell he was fighting a losing battle with.

"Shut up, Sam."

.................................

Dean had thought it would be better. It was quiet on the hunts, quiet in the bunker, quiet in the Impala, quiet in the diners and quiet in the motel rooms, quiet even when Cas didn't know Dean was awake or within hearing range.

It was too goddamn quiet, and Dean was sick of it, deeper and faster than Cas' singing had ever gone.

So one day, when Sam had disappeared to the town library in search of local death records, Dean cornered Cas. He wasn't doing anything offensive, really, just perched on the edge of a bed, thumbing through a magazine. Dean noticed, with no small amount of amusement, that it was completely dedicated to the worship of muscle cars.

"Is Baby in there?" He sat down next to Cas, tilting the angel off balance as the bed sank in. Cas quickly righted himself and closed the magazine, almost primly.

"I haven't seen anything that I recognize," he responded seriously, turning to study Dean. "Did you need something?"

Dean rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, trying to pretend that this wasn’t what it was. “Um. Sorta.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and waited patiently for Dean to find his words.

“You know...um, a few weeks ago, on the way to Nevada?” Which might have been a little vague, but he was thinking if Cas was already on the same page, a shitload of awkward could be avoided.

Cas was most definitely not on the same page.

“Okay, never mind.” Dean moved to stand up, because hell if he was actually going to go through with that.

“Dean, wait.” Cas’ hand tugged on Dean’s jacket, pulling him back down into a sitting position. “You can tell me things, you know.” Dean looked at Cas, the earnest way his blue eyes searched Dean’s. “You can trust me now.” Dean sighed, dropping his face into a hand.

“You can’t - don’t tell Sam about this, okay?”

Cas shook his head vehemently. “I won’t, Dean.”

“God, Cas. Okay. Um. I kinda - this is so stupid, man. But, uh, if you ever wanted to, I mean, no pressure or anything, but, uh, if you ever wanted to - to sing, again, I, um, I would like - I mean, I would be fine with it.”

Cas smiled widely, and Dean wanted to punch himself in the face for ever telling him to shut up in the first place.

"I didn't want to bother you and Sam," Cas said. "You already have the weight of the world on your shoulders." Dean was pretty sure the last part was sarcasm, but Cas' professional deadpan was sort of throwing him off. Whatever.

"Ha. Yeah. Just, um...feel free to do what you do, I guess."

Cas looked down at the space of bed between them. "Can I sing the song?"

"Yeah, Cas, I don't care. Just, maybe try to switch it up sometimes." Dean's eyes fell over Cas' face, still looking down. "Why d'you like it so much, anyway?"

Cas looked up. "It reminds me of you." The way he said it was so serious, so matter-of-fact, that Dean almost choked. On air. Because Dean was cool. And Cas was weird. And air was apparently chokable.

"What?"

Cas eyed him strangely. "I'd assumed you felt the same."

Dean could feel a flush rising in his cheeks. He had no idea what Cas was saying, but he thought it might be headed towards one of those chick flick moments he so diligently avoided. This time, though, he decided to let it happen.

"How the hell does that song remind you of me?"

"Dean, I think the entire continental U.S. is aware of your love for pie."

There were a lot of things Cas could've said in that moment that would have been a hell of a lot less confusing than whatever had just come out of his weird angel mouth. But Cas didn't stop there, and Dean didn't have the heart to tell him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't hearing 'Peace of Mind' the same way the rest of the world did.

"At first, that was the only reason, the pie thing, but the more I listened to the lyrics, the more I thought of you, because-" Cas suddenly stopped and looked up at Dean. "I'm sorry - do you mind? I know you don't do 'chick flick moments'." Sometimes Dean wondered if Cas had fully grasped the eternal inappropriateness of finger quotes. "But I started thinking about it, and,” he looked at Dean expectantly, who finally swept his hand out in a ‘go on’ gesture. “Well, you feel like that, don’t you? Like you’ve been ‘paying dues’ and you don’t know where to go - the indecision?” Dean was considering punching him in the face if he kept doing the godfuckingdamn air quotes, but otherwise, it was kind of funny having the angel psychoanalyze him.

“I don’t know, man, I guess,” he shrugged. Cas’ lip quirked up in a small smile.

“I think the song is about being stuck somewhere, and trying to get ahead, but you can’t. And in the end, it’s best to just be happy and make do with what you have.” Cas looked down, watching his fingers fiddle with the trenchcoat. He looked so small, so vulnerable, that Dean found his hand inching across the sheets to come to a stop an inch from Cas’ knee.

“Cas, is that...” Dean wanted to bolt, because the touchy-feelies were about to strangle him. He cleared his throat. “Is that how you feel? Like you’re stuck?”

Cas’ shoulders collapsed in a little more. “Sometimes,” he said quietly. “But you - you and Sam - you’re my piece of pie.”

Dean fucking hated these fucking conversations because they always led to him trying desperately not to cry - he always said no, no no no no, no feelings, ever, because when Dean let them escape from the cage, he was weak and teary and just, fuck.

He couldn’t not hug Cas after that; it only made sense that his hands fisted in the trenchcoat at Cas’ back, his cheek resting against Cas’ neck.

“If you ever tell Sam, I will end you,” he whispered. Cas nodded slowly, his hands coming up cautiously to rest in the area between Dean’s shoulder blades.

They stayed like that for a while, frozen in place, until Dean felt that they’d crash tested the awkward car long enough for the dummy to be three limbs down and half a leg to go. He pulled back from Cas and, on a whim, said the only thing he’d been thinking for the past few minutes.

“You’re kinda my piece of pie, too.”

Dean really wasn’t expecting Cas to lean forward, and forward, closing up the distance between them until Dean’s whole world was blue eyes, until the only thing Dean could taste was rainclouds and honey.

They stared wide eyed at each other, over the place where their mouths had sealed themselves together. It wasn’t a kiss, really, but it could have been, and it would be, and when they finally separated, it wasn’t by very much.

“Oh,” Cas said.

Dean had been feeling a little less straight than he usually did, anyway, so he pulled Cas in by the lapels of his coat and mashed their faces together, giving the angel the kind of kiss that you never really forget.

“I think,” Cas panted once Dean had leaned back again, “I think this is another don’t tell Sam.”

Dean laughed and pushed Cas back onto the bed, crawling after him.

“I think so, too.”

………………………………….

“I UNDERSTAND ABOUT INDECISIONNN, BUT I DON’T CARE IF I GET BEHIND! PEOPLE LIVING IN COMPETITION, ALL I WANT IS TO HAVE MY PIECE OF PIEEEEEE!”

“Dean, you know-”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for playing it, Dean.”

“Anytime, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know, it was just supposed to be cute and fluffy and then it got angsty and then it got fluffy again. basically watching 9x13 made me want to cry so i had to reinvent story line.  
> \----i didn't thoroughly edit this so apologies for any errors------


End file.
